To Break an Oath
by HollyandMisltoe
Summary: Captured by Galbatorix and seperated from Saphira, Eragon feels more lonely then ever. But then he finds an old firend from Carvahall, and with their knowledge of the castle,could possibly escape. But what if hes already pledged to the king. No OC
1. prologue

HAY ALL

**HAY ALL! So, this is "To Break an Oath". You can probably guess what it's about…trying to break an oath. I hope you like it and…please leave me a review.**

**Holly and mistletoe**

**Prologue:**

Murtagh collapsed to the ground, gasping for breath as the invisible hand closed around his wind pipe. His lungs were screaming for air as his chocolate eyes began to water. He forced his lids open slightly; just enough to see a pair of highly polished leather boots come into his vision.

"Yes, it hurts, doesn't it Murtagh?" taunted the king as he tightened the magic a little around his servants neck before releasing it. Murtagh gulped the air gratefully, but he knew it would not last much longer. It was not his first 'interrogation' from Galbatorix. And sure enough, a second later, the leather boot made contact with his jaw, sending him across the room.

"Perhaps you will think twice before returning to me empty handed. Now answer, WHY ISN'T ERAGON SHADESLAYER HERE?!" Galbatorix bellowed.

Murtagh attempted to push himself up from the floor, blood dripping from his mouth onto the cold tiles. He had no chance to reply, however, for then the king shouted "Ismni falrt" (Internal Flame) Suddenly, Murtagh felt as if he were engulfed in flames. He screamed out as he twitched and turning on the floor, trying to shake off the invisible fire.

Then none too soon the flames subsided, leaving their victim panting and moaning on the floor with no physical evidence of his recent sufferings. Galbatorix stepped forward and grabbed the neck of Murtagh's battle-worn shirt, bringing his servants face within inches of his own, "You will go to Helgrind," He growled dangerously. "You will find your brother. And you will bring him to me. OR LACK OF AIR AND FIRE WILL BE THE LAST OF YOUR WORRIES!" He shouted as he threw Murtagh from him, causing him to collide with the wall. "Now, repeat it."

Murtagh leaned heavily against the wall for support as he bowed his head in defeat and swore to the king in the ancient language, fearing silently for his younger brother.


	2. chapter 1

The first thing Eragon became aware of was the pain that filled his whole body, more so in his shoulders

**Okay, here's chapter 1. I might have to warn you, my chapter up dates won't be this quick in the future, I just happened to write both the prologue and chapter one together. I just have a lot of other stories going on and, well, attempting to keep my social life going. Leave me a note to let me know if I should continue.**

**Holly and Misletoe**

**Chapter 1:**

The first thing Eragon became aware of was the pain that filled his whole body, more so in his shoulders. Wincing, he looked up to find his arms suspended by thick, heavy chains, attached firmly to the wall of the cell. He tried to pull himself up, but let out a gasp of pain as a spasm erupted in his left side and shoulder, forcing him back down.

He sat there, breathing hard and gritting his teeth, willing the pain to subside. What had happened? How had he gotten into this cell; this damp dungeon with wet, green walls?

Closing his eyes, he tried to think back to his last memory. He had been with Roran and Saphira, that much was certain. They had been to Helgrind, attempting to rescue his cousin's fiancé, but she hadn't been there. Roran was devastated, believed her to be dead, and asked to be left alone. Eragon had obliged. He and Saphira took off to search for a camping spot, not fearing that the Ra'zac would attack on account of they were dead. But someone else did instead.

It was all a blur of red and blue. Vicious teeth, balls of fire, and flashing swords. But Eragon was not powerful enough to over take his brother, who easily defeated him with the advantage of surprise and a proper Riders blade. The last thing Eragon remembered before the dark surrounded him was Saphira's calls as he fell from her back, headed for the forest floor.

And then he woke here, surrounded again in darkness and pain, but now an unbelievable surge of fear devoured him. He was in Galbatorix's castle no doubt, and soon he would probably be meeting with the king alone. _But not completely alone_, he reminded himself.

He reached out with his mind, trying to find the familiar feel of his dragon, but couldn't. Ignoring this, he tried to contact with her anyway. _Saphira, are you there?_

Nothing. There was no reply. Eragon sighed. He had never felt more alone, separated from his dragon as if a part of himself had been torn away. He finally resorted to staring at the opposite wall, engulfed in his own misery and constantly asking himself how he had let this happen. Did they have Roran as well? Where was Saphira and was she okay? And when were they going to come for him?

His last question was answered as the sound of footsteps and the ring of keys filled the hall outside. The door suddenly opened with a creak and light flooded into the cell from the torches along the walls. Two guards appeared, one of them laughing slightly.

"So you're finally awake." He said with a sneer in his rough voice. Eragon tried to sit up properly again, attempting to keep the pain from his face.

The guard that spoke moved forward and Eragon saw a sick smile play across his face. "The king wishes a word with you, _Shadeslayer._" He spat the last word as if he found it impossible to believe that this imprisoned boy could have defeated the great Durza. Keys jangled softly in the guards hand as he reached up and began unlocking the chains around the rider's wrists. The other guard stepped up and said menacingly, "Don't try anything now, _rider._"

Half a minute later, his arms fell lose from the chains and the two men pulled him roughly to his feet. He stumbled for a moment, his legs feeling like jelly, but the guard caught him before he fell back to the floor. The pain that coursed through his whole body at the slight movement was enough to make one vomit, but he kept his face stoic, unemotional.

After tying Eragon's hands so tightly behind his back that he could no longer feel his fingers, the guard shoved him between the shoulder blades and marched him out the door. Though flaming torches lined the walls, the corridor outside the cell was dim and dank and Eragon guessed they were underground. There were more cells against the same wall as his, but Eragon could not look inside them, for every time he moved his head it began to throb.

He was led up a flight of steps, which he was almost unable to climb, and turned left, then right, then right again. He tried to keep track, just incase, but after a while he gave up, his brain was too disoriented to take it all in.

They passed through long extravagant halls lined with wide windows and tapestries. Most of the images were of dragons and riders, supposedly from the rider's golden age, but Eragon couldn't help but feel that they were extremely out of place. The figures seemed to illuminate a feeling of grandeur and peace, completely opposite of Eragon's feelings to the King.

After passing walls and walls of endless windows that overlooked the royal gardens, Eragon was roughly pulled to the right. Before him stood a pair of gilded doors at least ten feet tall. Carved into the golden wood were scenes of dragons and riders fighting together, just like the many tapestries he had seen before.

There were two additional guards on either side of the door, but they barely glanced at Eragon and his guides. Simultaneously the guards reached for the twisted gold handles and pulled the heavy door open.

The guard pushed Eragon roughly between the shoulder blades again, signaling him to enter the room. The rider took a deep, steadying breath and marched confidently, whether he felt it or not, across the threshold.

The throne room shone with rich treasures, colorful tapestries, and a marvelous golden throne, but the room was strangely dark and sinister. Perhaps it was the black tiled floor, or the gray stone walls, but Eragon had a feeling that the darkness was radiating from none other then the Black Rider himself, positioned on his throne, watching Eragon enter with a hungry expression in his dark eyes.

The guard brought Eragon to the center of the room, placed a large, strong hand on each of his shoulders, and pushed down hard. Immediately, Eragon's legs gave way and he stifled a cry as his knees hit the cold, hard floor. The guard's hands remained on his shoulders, keeping him down in his kneel as the king stood gracefully, his black robes billowing around him.

"What is this?" He asked, a cruel smile playing on his lips. "The great Eragon Shadeslayer, kneeling before me in chains?"

Galbatorix was now standing directly over the blue rider, who had been staring at the ground, muscles tense to keep from shaking. Finally, Eragon looked up into the kings eyes, and as brown met black Eragon felt anger such as he had never before course through him. He wasn't sure if Galbatorix could see his hatred shining through his eyes or not, but the king turned away, continuing to talk.

"I've waited a long time for this, Shadeslayer, a long time indeed. And now I will finally see the dragon riders united under me once again, the beginnings of a new Forsworn order."

"You're wrong." Eragon had finally found his voice and the courage to speak out against the mad rider. "The forsworn will never be resurrected, for I will never join you."

The king turned and glared at Eragon, eyes flashing dangerously. "Do you really think that, Eragon?" When he did not answer, Galbatorix continued. "You believe you can defy me, resist my power?"

Again, Eragon did not answer, afraid his voice would give away his away his fear. At his silence, the king laughed, a cold, cruel laugh that made the hairs on the back of Eragon's neck stand on end. "Oh Eragon," He said in a false voice of kindness. "I can tell you are a stubborn one. But soon you will find that stubbornness cannot defeat me, as your brother so well knows."

He motioned to the far corner. For the first time, Eragon noticed Murtagh standing concealed in the shadows, his head bent and eyes closed as if afraid to watch what was happening. Again, red hot anger flared up inside him. It was his brother's fault that he was here now, surly about to be tortured until he swore to the king… or died.

"Now, Eragon." Said Galbatorix, forcing Eragon's attention to return to him. "You are going to swear loyally to me and me alone. As will your dragon. And then you will join me in creating a new, peaceful era in this Empire."

Eragon laughed, though he found no humor in the king's words. "I'm sorry, you're Majesty," He said mockingly. "but you will get no such pleasure from us."

The king sighed. "I was rather hoping it wouldn't come to this."

Eragon sat up more defiantly, knowing what was about to happen. He reached for his magic to create a shield, but could not touch it. He could not find the correct words. Someone or something was still blocking his magic out. Panic suddenly took over him as he realized he was completely defenseless. And worse, Galbatorix was the fear flash across his captive's face. Smiling evilly, he yelled, "Ismni falrt!"

The guards jumped back as Eragon fell to the floor, twitching and screaming in pain. It felt like one thousand white hot flames were licking at his insides. It was unbearable. More painful then anything else he had ever experienced.

Then finally, after what felt like hours, the flames vanished. Eragon lay at the king's feet, groaning, though he had no marks upon him. He forced himself to stop whimpering, refused to allow tears to flow, and opened his eyes.

What caught his attention first was not the wicked look on Galbatorix's face, but his brother. Murtagh had taken a tentative step out of the shadows, concern etched across his fine features. This confused Eragon. Surly his crazed brother would agree with Galbatorix's plan to create a new forsworn order.

Eragon tried to stand, but his hands were tied too tightly behind his back to allow it. Besides, he doubted his legs would be able to hold him up. But the guards stepped forward again and grabbed him under the arms, forcing him again into a kneeling position.

"Have you perhaps changed your mind, Shadeslayer, or do you need a little more persuasion?" Smirked the king.

The blue rider took several deep breaths before he could reply. "No." He said simply, but forcefully.

"No? Perhaps you don't really understand the position you are in. I do not need to ask you to for your allegiance. Though I would prefer to do this another, simpler way, you leave me almost no other choice. Forcing me to use your true name is not a wise path, for it proves more painful than even what you just felt. Doesn't it Mur-"

"No!" Murtagh was staring at the king, eyes wide. "You said you wouldn't," There was a long pause as the king glared daggers at the older son until Murtagh bowed his head and seemed to retreat again into the shadows. "Unless it was necessary." He added in a low mumble

"True." Galbatorix said thoughtfully. "And I think you would agree that because of your brother's stubbornness it is necessary. But then again, there is a way to avoid it, if you desire to help him."

Murtagh didn't look up, afraid to catch Eragon's eye. Knowing Galbatorix's request would not be pleasant, he still obliged. "I do." He muttered.

"Then I want you to go to Helgrind, search the forest below the Ra'zac's lair for Roran Stronghammer," He glanced quickly at Eragon with a smile, "And kill him."

Eragon's breath caught in his throat and his pulse quickened. Would he be responsible for his cousin's death?

Obviously avoiding his younger brother's eyes, Murtagh reluctantly stepped forward and, with a short bow to his master, went to the door. As his hand touched the handle Eragon finally spoke. "No, wait!"

Murtagh looked over at him, fear in his dark eyes, but Eragon turned away to face the King. Galbatorix was smiling, aware that he had just won. Feeling as if he might as well be sentencing his own death, he bowed his head and said, "I'll do what you want, just leave Roran out of this."

Though he didn't look up, he could tell the king was almost dancing with joy. "Well, as you can see you _can _be taught obedience. But now you must be taught how to be thorough. Now, say it again, but this time in the Ancient Language."

Grinding his teeth, Eragon found that he could now recognize the words he needed, but only them. He closed his eyes and began to mutter his vow with binding words. After a minute of reciting he finished with "Vel einradhin iet ai Shur'tugal, Galbatorix Konungr."

He looked up to see Galbatorix almost giddy. Eragon couldn't bare the site of it, he had to look away. So instead his eye landed on Murtagh, hand still on the door. Again, Eragon saw the look of concern on his brother's face mixed with the unforgettable sign of hopelessness. Was Murtagh angry? Worried that his last hope, the last hope for the Varden, had just turned himself over to the enemy? No, surely not. He would be happy to have another to fight for Galbatorix along side him, wouldn't he?

Eragon's attention was drawn back to Galbatorix when the king began to speak. "Very good, you're a quick learner, Eragon. Murtagh, forget what I just said for now." He put emphasis on the last two words for Eragon's sake. "and bring your brother to his new quarters. Then we shall talk later. Eragon, you begin your training tomorrow."

And as the king turned, Eragon remembered something. How could he have possibly forgotten? He looked up and glared at the back of his new masters head. "Where's my dragon?" He nearly shouted. "Where's Saphira?"

There was a pause, but Galbatorix did not turn around. "She is safe and will be returned to you when I see fit."

And with that, Galbatorix walk away, black robe twisting around him, and left though a darkened door behind the throne, leaving Eragon, Murtagh, and the two guards alone.

**TBC**

**So, there's chapter 1. I know, I know, how could I possibly allow Eragon to become a servant of the Galbatorix's, but honestly, do you think Eragon is not stubborn enough to try to find a way out of it…if he can. Well, leave me a review and I'll see what I can do about it. **

**Till then…**

**Holly and Misletoe**


	3. Chapter 2

Murtagh was the first to speak, turning away from the gilded door

**Hey all!! Here's chapter 3, which is really chapter 2. Confusing, isn't it. Well, thanks to everyone who reviewed, it really made my day!! Keep it up and leave me another note. Let me know how I'm doing. I love criticism, it'll help me improve!**

Murtagh was the first to speak, turning away from the gilded door. He quickly rearranged his face and placed an authoritative mask over his recently concerned features. "Guards, return to our posts." He ordered.

The two men still holding Eragon in his kneeling position stepped away, bowed to Murtagh, and hurried to the door. There was a short pause as Murtagh watched the guards leave. After a moment, Eragon tried to stand, but his legs felt suddenly like jell-o, refusing to hold his weight.

"Don't!" Murtagh hissed turning towards his brother. Eragon rolled his eyes, but remained on the ground knowing he was not yet ready to stand. Instead he settled with glaring at the ground as he listened to Murtagh's foot steps slowly approach him. Then Eragon felt him kneel down at his back.

The familiar sound of a blade being pulled form it's sheath met Eragon's ears and an involuntary shiver ran through his aching body. Then Murtagh suddenly grabbed his lower arm with surprisingly cold, almost clammy hands. Eragon immediately jerked away from the touch, which forced a growl to rise from Murtagh's throat.

"Stop moving or I'm going to slit your wrists." Murtagh demanded and Eragon obliged. Not because his brother had told him to, but mainly because his head went spinning every time he moved.

Eragon felt the knife working its way through the ropes around his wrists until there was a faint _snap _and the bonds fell loose. Rubbing his hands to encourage the circulation to flow, he tried to stand again, but Murtagh put a hand on his shoulder.

"Whoa, let me help you." He offered but Eragon shrugged his hand off.

"I can walk, Murtagh." He said angrily, but even so he doubted that himself. And sure enough as soon as he got to his feet his knees gave out and he stumbled.

Murtagh was there in an instant to keep him from falling. This time Eragon did not shrug him off. "I know these affects, Eragon," He said almost kindly. "I've been under that same curse many times. It will be a minute or two before you can walk in a straight line."

Still grinding his teeth and glaring straight ahead, Eragon allowed Murtagh to guide him out of the king's throne room and down a less decorated corridor. Waves of dizziness came over him with every step and to his disgust he found himself leaning heavily on Murtagh's shoulder.

Murtagh sighed. "I know how it is." He said.

"You know nothing." Eragon muttered with hatred.

"I don't?" Murtagh asked, but did not wait for an answer. "Well, I _do _know what it's like to be in that room with _him. _To be tortured into submission. To have a loved ones life suddenly thrust into your hands, for you to make the decision if they should die, or if a part of you should die instead."

Eragon did not reply. He couldn't, since he had no idea what to say. He settled instead with glaring ahead.

After glancing quickly at him, Murtagh continued. "First he threatened your life." This statement made Eragon look over at his brother, surprise in his tired eyes. Murtagh didn't meet his gaze. "Of course, I pointed out to him that without me, there would be no way you would come within his reach. It was three weeks, three weeks in the same cell you were in. Three weeks with regular torture sessions from both Galbatorix and the twins. Then, at the beginning of the fourth week, it happened. Thorn hatched for me.

"I was only with him for two hours when Galbatorix came and took him from me. He held a dagger to the hatchlings neck and told me that with one small flick he could end the dragon's life. Though I hadn't had Thorn for long, I already felt like half of me lived with him. How could I refuse now? Would you kill Saphira to save yourself? Or anyone for that matter?"

Eragon's answer was no, but he couldn't get the words to leave his mouth. Finally he looked away, no longer glaring. "Why are you telling me this?" He suddenly asked softly.

Murtagh laughed, though he felt no humor. "To let you know you're not the only one in the sinking boat."

They walked on in silence, Eragon thinking over what he had just been told. Was Murtagh really not the enemy? Were they both stuck in the same situation?

"Maid," Murtagh called to a red-haired girl in a plain black maids dress. "Prepare food and a bath for Rider Shadeslayer. Bring the food to his quarters." The maid bowed quickly and hurried through another door, as if wanting to leave the presence of the two riders as soon as possible.

A minute later they arrived at Eragon's new rooms. The door was polished, smooth dark wood, identical to the four or so other doors in the hall. "My door's that one." Murtagh pointed at the next door. "If you need anything-"

Eragon nodded as he attempted to stand on his own. He swayed a bit, but his head was no longer swimming as much. Murtagh watched as his brother stumbled clumsily through the door and closed it quietly behind him.

Eragon leaned against the door until the room steadied and came into clearer focus. His quarters contained a large bed dressed in rich red and yellow covers. There was a wardrobe, two tables with lamps, and one window. There was an attached bathroom with a chamber pot and bath tub.

Reaching behind him he tried to twist the door knob, but it would not move. It had mysteriously been locked. Slowly, he crossed the room to the window. It looked out over a courtyard with fountains and manicured shrubs. With his elven eyes, Eragon could see the practice field hidden far behind the castle. Two men were fencing, their swords flashing in the sunlight. Eragon suddenly missed the heavy weight of a blade on his hip.

Running his fingers around the sides of the window, he could not find a latch or even a hinge to suggest the window could open. He was still a prisoner.

His legs began to ach again and Eragon sat down quickly on the bed. It was extremely comfortable and very inviting. Still staring out the window, Eragon asked again for his dragon.

_Saphira?_

There was no answer. Just silence.

_Saphira? _

This time it was a little less then a whisper, more like a plead. Holding his head in his hands, Eragon allowed a single tear to run down his cheek. The tear trickled down his chin and dropped soundlessly onto his scuffed up and muddy leather boots. The tear then ran down the side of the boot and hit the polished wood floor, vanishing.

_What have I done?_ Eragon moaned.

**TCB**

**So, it's a little short, but the next will be longer I think. Please leave me a review and tell me if you like it, or if you have problems. Till next time…**

**Holly and Misltoe**


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